


Under the winter sky

by Rainwater_Apothecary



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko, No. 6 light novels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, based on the books not the anime/manga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-12 14:40:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11163993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainwater_Apothecary/pseuds/Rainwater_Apothecary
Summary: Nezumi aids Shion with his deliveries, even if his overly-verbose thoughts weigh only as heavy as the smoke of their winter breaths.





	Under the winter sky

The man's brown hair was tossed astray, unheeded, as he turned about to address the straggler.  
"Come on, Nezumi, we'll be late to Mr. Collins' with the delivery if you drag your feet any more!" He was rewarded with a glance as cold as the little lake on the outskirts of town from the gray ice-chips his boyfriend referred to casually as 'eyes'. Not like Shion cared _what_ they were called, as they were merely an aspect of the man he loved, an aspect he repeatedly found himself hopelessly tossed about in, like a drowning ice-skater in said lake in november.  


" 'A man who is a master of patience is master of everything else'. Excellent words to live by, though you _do_ seem adverse to taking advice. Oh, and on that note: may I be so _rash_ as to inquire into why doesn't your mother just have a van like anybody else in this business?" came the reply that rent Shion from his musings, muffled though it was through his muffler. He rolled the basket full of Karan's rolls into his other hand, freeing it up to meet Nezumi's when they walked abreast.  


"Because Mr. Collins is a very nice man who happens to live within walking distance! It's a pleasure to bring him his purchases. So who said that one?" The weighted basket bounced jovially against his leg as they walked.  


"Savile, George. Politician and all-around windbag, as the two tend to cohabitate better than, well, naivety and yourself." In an unconscious effort that only served to reinforce the other man's prejudice, Shion stellarly ignored the insult, focusing instead on the steady warmth resonating from the basket, the strands of ebony that whipped against his lover's already wind-chapped cheeks (though he would never admit it) and, most potently of all, the strength the other man had placed around his hand upon completing the little anecdote.  


It wasn't that the cold didn't matter, no, it was something far more potent than that. It was that all of Shion's senses had suddenly woken up from their slumber ("a laziness that will probably be the death of you [or me for that matter, God]." had quipped Nezumi at the time he had first come clean about such happenings) that made the cold come alive. Suddenly the handle's woven woodwork rubbed against the underside of the knuckles on one hand; suddenly the wind bit at Shion's cheeks in a way that was so driven, so pure, that it was almost enough to make the man cry;  


and suddenly the power of nature no longer mattered (well, I suppose to some deeper, primal instinct it matters. Thousands of organisms depend upon such cold keeping the ecosystem balanced and within harmony, so it isn't like it ever really _stopped_ mattering. Shion shrugged. It was more that he had stopped noticing. Yes, that would do for a rough approximation.) everything around the two men had receded to Shion, in the moment his lover grasped his hand within one of his own. _Such warmth_...Perhaps Shion would fall, hopeless to rescue, into this warmth instead. The taller man relinquished his vision to the thought as his eyelashes interlaced. Yes, perhaps he could drown in this warmth, this strength, as the gray waters enclosed above his head, shutting out all else until it was only him and his thoughts. _That might be pleasant-_  


"Shion!" His eyes snapped open at the gruff tone sounding beside him. "Jeez, your head really is as soft on the inside as it is on the outside; watch where you're going, airhead." Shion let himself be pulled out of the way of an incoming stall before Nezumi replaced their interlaced fingers into one of the pockets of his sweater. "After this delivery, we're stopping by the music store. That album has kept me waiting too long past the _supposed_ 'release date'. Artists, pfeh." And ugly noise in discord with the man's lovely appearance would have been grating to anyone else, but to Shion it was the most natural thing in the world.  


The man squeezed his lover's hand happily, relishing the returning grip Nezumi saw fit to furnish. Yes, it would be cold outside...Shion ducked his chin into the outermost layer of his coat, keeping his smile to himself and thus missing the pink tinge to the other man's exposed cheek; but they would keep each other warm with their ideas, their lives, and these interlaced fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> lord god how old is this


End file.
